The Notorious Lady Anne: A Loveswept Historical Romance (8 page)

This summer would have been the end. She would have walked away from her father, vindicated and exuberant in her revenge.

Addison stared at her with navy-blue eyes, unwavering, full of hatred.

He knew what the paper was. He understood what she’d stolen from him. He’d thought her a good person. A month ago she would have laughed at the concept, but now she withered inside. She wasn’t good. Hadn’t been good in a long while. It had never bothered her before, but now it hurt that Nicholas Addison knew the truth.

“I’m waiting,” Alphonse said.

How unfair was this? A man’s life or her life’s work? Her mind flashed back to the park bench in Boston, and the young girl anxious to speak to her father. Was part of that naïve child still inside her? Had she turned so cold and hard she would throw a good man’s life away for her
own dreams?

Sweat beaded on her brow, but not Addison’s. He watched her with a calmness she’d never seen in a man so close to death. And she’d seen many men close—men who cried and begged, who cursed and wet themselves.

Her gaze went to the paper. Dark smudges of dirt marred its once pristine surface. Like her. She was once pristine, but now her soul was layered with filth.

Revenge? Or Nicholas Addison’s life? God help her, she didn’t know.

She craved her revenge. But she didn’t want the guilt of an honorable man’s soul resting on her shoulders. Her lips tingled with their remembered kiss. Her first real kiss and likely her only. Not many men wanted to kiss her, afraid of what she would do to them if they tried.

She could choose the paper and fear the wrath of Kenmar and the others who placed Addison on the
Pride
. She could choose the paper and continue her mission without delay.

I’m sorry
, he’d whispered to her not minutes ago. For him, fondling a woman in his office was the height of debauchery, and he wasn’t that type of man. He was sorry because he felt he’d used her, and it went against his beliefs.

A good man’s life for her revenge.

She’d done nothing but lie to Nicholas Addison since she first laid eyes on him.

Something deep inside her, a small speck of goodness she’d thought had long since gone, sprang to life.

“Come, milady. We are all awaiting your decision,” Alphonse’s tone mocked the word
milady
. “The captain or the paper.”

Emmaline licked her lips, looking with longing at the paper. “The captain.”

Alphonse lifted the dagger from Addison’s throat. A pinprick of blood welled up on the soft skin and she felt as if her own skin had been marred. To her surprise, Addison didn’t look at her with gratitude or relief, but with raw hatred burning in his blue eyes.

Alphonse shoved the paper in her face. “I’m curious to know what’s so important you almost gave up a man’s life.”

Emmaline pressed her lips together, her gaze sliding to Addison, who was still glaring at her.

Alphonse looked between them. “No? Neither will tell me?” He sighed dramatically. “I will call the surgeon. He knows how to read.”

Emmaline refused to speak. Despite the fact he was unable to read, Alphonse was not a stupid man. He would understand the significance and he would act on it, ruining her plans.

“The lady puts too much faith in things she does not understand.” Addison spoke to Alphonse, but stared at her.

“And what is written on the paper?” Alphonse asked Addison.

Addison shrugged. “Nothing of consequence. If she would have read it before pilfering it from my personal papers, she would know.” He looked at her with such penetrating hatred it made her shiver. “Perhaps she can’t read either.”

Her chin went up and she bit the inside of her cheeks to keep from retorting that she knew what was written on the paper. However, if she disputed Addison, Alphonse would know how important the paper was. If she didn’t, she would be admitting she couldn’t read—when she could read very well.

Neither option was acceptable.

Brows drawn in confusion, Alphonse looked between her and Addison.

“What she stole is nothing but a list of baubles my sister wants me to purchase once I reach the colonies, along with names of acquaintances my brother wants me to pay my respects to.”

Addison was lying, of course. Nothing on the paper said anything about baubles or acquaintances. She hadn’t had time to read the paper fully when she was in his office, but she knew it was shipping routes.

Alphonse stared at her for a long moment, as if weighing his next move. Emmaline remained still, her chin high, her gaze locked on the horizon and the ship no one else had yet noticed swiftly sailing toward them. Fools.

Alphonse balled the paper in his hand, strode to the railing and opened his fist. Emmaline’s gaze shifted to watch the wind catch the crumpled parchment. For a moment it hung in the air, suspended, before the breeze whisked it away. It sailed for a few moments, dipped low and then landed on the water, where a swell swallowed it whole.

Gone.

Now she had nothing to show for her efforts except a good man’s life.

And what did that get her?

Emmaline stood starboard while her ship, the
Delilah
, pulled up alongside Alphonse’s ship. A group of familiar, unsightly men lowered a tender and a lone man rowed over.

Having lost the shipping routes, she had to formulate an alternate plan to gain the information now lying at the bottom of the ocean.

Regroup. Replan. It was the story of her life. She should be accustomed to it by now, but this setback weighed heavily on her shoulders. No longer would this act of revenge be finished by summer. Sometimes she thought it would never be over.

Addison approached, his limp more discernible than she’d ever seen it. By the lines bracketing his mouth, she could tell he was in pain, yet he didn’t complain. In fact, he hadn’t spoken to her at all in the last several hours. He kept a wary eye on her, but maintained his distance. She watched the fury in the taut lines of his body when his crew was rounded up and herded belowdecks, and the calculation in his eyes when he studied Alphonse’s crew, looking for weakness, a way to escape, revenge. Little did he know they were very much alike. She too formulated and dismissed plans of escape, calculated the risks taken. The only difference was that she put her plans into action, because she had the resources to do so and he didn’t.

“More bloody pirates,” he said in disgust.

“It seems so.”

He turned his face away as if he couldn’t bear to look at her, and it broke her heart bit by bit. “Did Kenmar send you?”

“Pardon?”

He turned haughty dark blue eyes on her, and for the first time since Aunt Dorothy’s ball, she saw the nobility running through his veins. During the last several weeks she’d tried to forget Nicholas Addison came from a noble family, but there were times she couldn’t help but see it.

“Come, Mrs. Sutherland, there’s no reason to play naïve. We both know what you took.
Did Kenmar send you to spy on me?”

He thought Kenmar sent her to spy on him? Nicholas Addison had a low opinion of women, but it wasn’t an uncommon one. He’d been brought up in a society that believed the fairer sex inferior, unable to think as logically as men. His opinion of her sometimes amused her, sometimes irritated her. Right now it intrigued her. It would be the worst sort of offense for Kenmar to send a
woman
to spy on him.

“Why would I take that paper if Kenmar sent me?” In a way, she wanted him to acknowledge who she was. His opinion of her was already low, since he believed her a spy and a thief. If he was going to believe ill of her, it might as well be the truth.

His eyes flashed. His jaw went rigid. “Admit you were in my office to make certain I was doing my job.”

“I was in your office looking for specific information on Blackwell Shipping.”

“Why would you need that?”

Activity on Alphonse’s ship stopped while the crew warily watched Phin deftly scale the ropes and step on deck. Phin loved to make an entrance and today was no different. The ocean breeze fanned his long dark hair out behind him. His torso, covered only in a red vest that showcased his rippled stomach muscles, glowed with the sweat of rowing over. His expression was strangely bland until one looked into his green eyes and saw the heat of anger simmering there.

Yes, Phin had arrived and she was glad of it.

Addison stepped closer, blocking her view, trying to intimidate her with his height and broad shoulders. Little did he know such intimidation tactics never worked on her. Yet a tremor started inside her at the heat of his body so close and the scent of the ocean coming off him. “Damn it, Emmaline, why do you want information on Blackwell Shipping?”

Her gaze was level with the strong, tanned column of his throat. She let her eyes wander to his broad shoulders, noting the way the breeze molded the shirt to his taut muscles. Black stubble covered his jaw, lending a roguish quality to his rugged good looks. The trembling inside her grew. Good thing her hands were tied. She feared she’d otherwise touch him, and that was
the least prudent thing she could do right now.

“Why did you want the information, Emmaline?”

Finally her gaze collided with his. “Why do you think?”

His eyes narrowed, then widened when understanding hit him broadside. Anger followed disbelief, then disgust. His lips twisted into a silent snarl. The goodness she’d recently discovered inside herself shriveled to black dust. She’d known, of course, that Nicholas Addison would hate her once he discovered the truth. She just hadn’t realized how much his hatred would hurt.

Alphonse grabbed Emmaline’s injured arm, causing her to wince. She heard rather than felt the hem of her gown tear, but she didn’t look away from Addison until Phin stepped between them.

Phin’s gaze rested on Addison’s for a moment before wandering to Emmaline.

“Why are her hands tied?” he asked.

“I feared she would escape,” Alphonse said.

Phin’s cold stare moved to Alphonse. “And what? Swim to London?” He raised an eyebrow at her as if to say,
Can you believe this man?

Alphonse shrugged. “I take no chances with Lady Anne.”

Emmaline’s gaze flew to Addison. Nearly black eyes, accusing, hate-filled and disgusted, stared at her. His jaw muscles worked. He rolled his shoulders, and for the first time she was glad his hands were tied.

Alphonse stroked his chin. “What do I get in return for the … prisoner?” He smirked at her, clearly delighted to call her his prisoner. “Certainly you don’t expect me to simply hand her over?”

“You keep the cargo from the captured ship,” Phin said.

“From the ship
I
captured?” Alphonse asked in surprise.

Phin made a show of looking at the ship he came from, then at Alphonse’s. Even an untrained eye could see Alphonse was outmanned and outgunned. Phin could easily take the
Pride
and her cargo with little fight.

“You may keep the crew as well,” Phin added.

“No,” Emmaline said. “We get all prisoners. It’s the cargo or nothing.” Addison would want his crew released. Despite the unruly lot they were, and despite his hatred of her, she wanted this for him.

“No prisoners?” Alphonse’s face grew red.

“You get the cargo and the ship,” Phin told Alphonse. “I leave with all prisoners.”

God bless Phin. He didn’t ask questions, merely accepted her need to keep the crew. Of course, questions would come later.

Alphonse studied first Phin, then Emmaline. Finally his gaze landed on Addison. “No.”

Phin shrugged, turned on his boot heel and headed for the tender. He threw a leg over the railing and grabbed the rope ladder leading to the tender. “Prepare the guns,” he yelled across the water.

The
Delilah
’s crew sprang into motion, preparing the twenty-four-pounders for battle. Beside her, Addison tensed and cursed.

“Very well,” Alphonse growled. “The prisoners for the ship and the cargo.”

Phin jumped back on deck and held up his hand, a signal to his crew to stop preparations. He strode up to them and cut Emmaline’s ties with his knife. “Let’s leave this rat-infested ship.”

“I want him as well.” Emmaline motioned with her chin to the giant.

“Shamus?” Alphonse asked. “What do you want with Shamus?”

She looked into Shamus’s eyes. He stared back implacably, but there was something in there that caught her interest. “I just do.”

Alphonse shrugged. “He’s lazy,” he warned.

Emmaline smiled at Shamus. “Not for long, he won’t be.”

“Fine.” Alphonse flicked a finger at Shamus. “Take him.”

Emmaline ordered Shamus to row them to the
Delilah
. Expression mutinous, his wary gaze darted from Emmaline to Phin as he rowed.

Emmaline kept her eyes on Addison, who kept his head turned away, refusing to look at
her, his shoulders straight, his chin high, his eyes frigid. Despite the torn and bloodied clothes, the mussed hair and the stubble shading his jaw, something inside her stirred.

So, Emmaline, what now? What are you going to do with your very handsome captive?